Dragons exist only in fairytales
Part 4
By Altricial
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. J.K.R is God. Don't sue, I'm broke from watching the movie 7 times already. I plead temporary insanity.
Author's note
Big, gigantic thanks to Starkiller for co-writing this chapter with me, there would have been no hanky panky without her. All the bloody hot smut is by her so everyone go bow to God!Starkiller. NC17 version can be found on ff.net. *grin* This chapter is the last of the happy moments in the fic, it will revert back to the present time where angst is the way to live. Enjoy.
Dragons exist only in fairytales
Part 4
By Altricial
Not knowing 'why', not sure 'how', not certain 'when', but a meeting of minds brought the meeting of lips and the souls entwined could only wonder 'why not'. Because it's Potter, because it's Malfoy, because it's a boy, because it's wrong, because it's supposed to feel wrong, but for now, nothing else really mattered than the sensation of lips against lips, fitting so delicately against their own, completing a forsaken puzzle, making them whole.
It felt like home sweet home.
Draco pushed Harry roughly away in shock. What the hell just happened? Who the blaze cares? Not trusting himself to form a coherent sentence at the moment, Draco decided actions spoke louder than words. He grabbed Harry's bewildered face back towards his own and claimed the waiting lips in a searing, tempestuous kiss.
Wanting more, Draco experimentally snaked his tongue out and drew a wet, shuddering line across Harry's slightly chapped lips. - God, how he needed the imperfections, scar and all. - Harry gasped. Draco nibbled lightly on the parted lower lip and touched his tongue unsurely with Harry's. Chocolates, he noted, Harry taste like chocolates.
Harry was fighting a losing battle with his sanity. He wanted to stop, he couldn't. How could he? He should. This is wrong. But why? It's Malfoy! No, it's Draco. Kissing Draco? Yes. It felt so right it's almost wrong. Nothing. Nothing should ever feel so good. It's not wrong, it's not, it's not, it's not! Draco taste like mint. Mint and chocolates. Chocolates and mint. Just like memories of the haven of his past, how can it be wrong?
Gentle probing of tongues soon grew hungry. Every fiber in his body was screaming for more, with the insane need to be closer, much closer to Draco. He entangled his fingers in silvery hair, playing with the soft strands that curled slightly around the other boy's neck. He pressed Draco nearer, exploring every mystery that lies between his lips, marking his way along the defined jaw line, bathing an earlobe with rasping desires, he whispered, "Is this ok?"
"No," Draco's voice came out huskier than intended. "But please don't stop."
They surrendered themselves to the moment, relishing the essence of everything that was so distinctly Harry and Draco. The latter was drowning in every delectable yearning moan he elicited from the raven-haired boy. He recaptured Harry's lips with his, with every possessive intention of devouring his very soul. Body burning against body, breath melting against breath, Draco felt like he was being slowly driven crazy. Crazy with need, want, possession. He felt like he was floating.
"Draco, you're floating."
Harry's confused voice broke the spell, but not quite. Draco's eyes flew open and he looked down. So he was. Floating, that is. Damn those Fizzing Whizbees. His lower body was half-suspended in the air, about two feet from the wooden floor, while his upper body was firmly anchored to the ground via Harry's neck. He looked rather stupid, but not half as stupid as he was feeling at the moment.
Harry chose this unfortunate instant to appreciate the hilarity of the situation and burst out laughing. Draco wasn't amused. In fact, he was rather pissed off. A mind-blowing snog session interrupted by his anti-gravitational problems. Not funny at all. He scowled and tried to detangle himself from the still annoyingly amused Harry, and planned to just float to a corner and sulk.
"Come back here, you silly cow. Where do you think you're going?" Harry dragged Draco firmly back against himself, ignoring the half-hearted protests. "I'm not done with you yet." And he pressed a soft, chaste kiss on Draco's lips, silencing all further complaints from the grey-eyed boy.
Draco returned the kiss with increased fervor. He could feel the levitating spell from the fizzy sherbet wearing off and the next thing he knew, he had fallen right into Harry's lap.
Neither knew how to react but Draco tried his luck, "So, tell me. What else do you dream of, Harry?" The intended connotation in his question caused Harry to blush profusely. This was turning out to be an interesting night after all. The anticipation of 'what next?' was wreaking havoc on his already erratic heartbeats. Maybe he swallowed some Peppermint Toads ('hop realistically in the stomach!') together with the Fizzing Whizbees.
"Wet dreams eh? I must say I'm impressed. Although I can confidently bet my right arm that Golden Boy is still a virgin." Draco smirked, in spite of himself.
"And I bet my left hand you're not." Harry retorted, rather insulted.
"Congratulations, say goodbye to your left hand. Give it here."
"What? No way." Harry snatched his hand back and sat on it, away from Draco's reach. "What the hell do you want to do with my left hand? Add it to your stuffed humans collection?"
"I can think of a few things I want to do with your hand, don't you worry." Draco leered and cracked his knuckles in a less than menacing fashion. "Now give it here, Harry."
Seemingly of its own free will, Harry's hand found its way back to its smug new owner and without any kind of warning whatsoever, Draco very swiftly and skillfully shoved the unresisting hand down the front of his pyjamas pants.
The cool feel of the silken material contrasted with the heat of smooth growing...oh my...Malfoys do not wear underwear.
Harry gazed at Draco with wide eyes. "Um...now what?"
Draco sighed theatrically. "Use your imagination, Harry."
Harry bit down on his lower lip in concentration and ran the fingers of his hand up Draco's flesh in one, feather light, tentative stroke. Draco hissed softly and the brunette repeated the action, this time a bit more confidently.
"That's...good..." Draco breathed.
Eyes never leaving Draco's face, which was now flushed a soft pink, Harry carefully wrapped his fingers around the other boy and began to stroke in slow, gentle movements. Draco whimpered, eyes closed, reaching out blindly for Harry. He leaned into Harry's body, his own shaking as he neared his climax.
"Wow," he panted; the inside of his pyjama pants and Harry's hand were a sticky mess.
Harry blushed. "It was my first time."
Draco ignored him. His own hands were now moving over Harry's body, gently pushing at fabric, touching skin, teasing, stroking, tracing lines of muscle and tendon, as they shyly removed each other's clothing.
"Draco..." Harry breathed his name as if it were a prayer. Draco whimpered in response, before pulling back to look deep into green eyes darkened with lust, trying to articulate his feelings.
"I just...I just want to know..." His usual pallor replaced by a flattering crimson blush.
"Know what, Malfoy?" He was aware he was sounding impatient but he wanted to get back to the important business of mutual sexual gratification.
"Oh hell. I'm no good at this. The truth is I think I...am falling for a bespectacled midget with a bloody scar."
Harry gaped at him. Draco blushed an even darker shade of pink. "I don't expect you to feel the same way-"
The other teen cut him off. "I love you too, you sodding arrogant bastard."
They stared at each other for long moments, and then Draco was on Harry again, all lips and tongue and hands and flesh and the sensations were filling his blood and he didn't care about anything or anyone except Draco. They fell in a messy heap on the floor, sprawling over each other as they continued to touch each other with trembling hands.
Draco grasped at one of Harry's thighs, pulling his leg over his shoulder and repositioning himself along the form beneath him. Harry was clutching at his shoulders, his arms, mumbling incoherently. With fumbling fingers, Draco traced the body beneath him, wanting more.
He gently took hold of Harry and began to stroke, using the same motion that the brunette had used on him not so long ago, breath hissing between his teeth as Harry clutched at his arms, throwing his head back in wantonness, gasping out his longing, begging for Draco to keep going, his cries of "fuck!" and "God!" and "More!" filling Draco's ears like nectar.
With a shuddering cry, he went limp in the embrace of the other boy, as Draco leaned down and slowly began to run his tongue up the pale belly, moving up Harry's body to kiss him as deeply and as passionately as he could. He felt Harry wrap his arms around him, kissing him back artlessly.
How long they lay there, simply holding each other and kissing, neither of them knew, but being skin to skin, mouth to mouth, finally acting upon long held desires, their arousal grew within them once again, and urged on by this newfound experience, they began to run their hands down each other's bodies, until Harry pushed Draco off of him.
"What is it now?" The blond sounded vaguely annoyed. His fingers continued to idly play with Harry's nipples, causing the other teen to have a difficult time marshalling his thoughts.
"Draco...what...I mean, how...I mean, oh bother!"
"Yes, very articulate, Harry. I am, as always, awed by your command of the English language."
"Oh shut up a minute! Did we just say what I thought we did?"
"And what do you think we did?" Draco was looking at him intently.
"Uh...did we just tell each other we were falling in love with each other?"
Draco shrugged. "Maybe. Is that a problem?"
Harry shook his head emphatically. "No, no. I just wanted to be clear on the matter."
"So are you clear on the matter?" Draco cocked his head rakishly and Harry nodded. "I'm so glad. Can we get back to more important business then?"
Harry sat up, pushing Draco off him, feeling suddenly affronted. "What's more important than how we feel about each other? I mean, I've never felt this way about anyone, let alone YOU!"
"Yes, and I fall in love at the drop of a hat. Potter, be quiet. Let me kiss you."
"But...but...but-"
"You want me to slap your butt?"
"No! So, Draco Malfoy gets off on spanking. Why am I not surprised?"
Draco rolled his eyes theatrically, pushing Harry back to the floor. "Harry, your idea of sexy talk is appalling."
Harry grunted and pulled Draco down on top of him, a long, wet, rough kiss being his only reply. They kissed for several minutes, the only noises in the room being the sounds of sucking and moaning and soft sighs before Draco moved his lips to Harry's ear.
"Harry...I'm going to make love to you now."
Wide, fearful green eyes met his. "Do you know what you're doing?"
Draco grinned with more confidence than he felt. "I've read books."
Harry pushed him away, suddenly horrified. "BOOKS? Well that's just bloody perfect! 'I've read books!' This does not fill me with confidence, Draco."
Draco gently pushed him back onto the floor, touching his lips with one finger. "Harry. Trust me."
Grumbling, Harry said nothing, but he watched with a certain amount of trepidation as Draco picked up his wand and took a deep breath before uttering the words "Aqueous Lubricata."
Trust. Thrust. Love. Lust. Every so often he would pause to lean down and kiss the sweaty body beneath him, his own inarticulate moans of longing mingling sweetly with those of Harry's and together, eventually, they climaxed. It was not in a torrent of fluid and passion, nor in a screaming burst of lustful release. Rather, it was muted, contained, and full of shared understanding, desire and love.
"I love you, Harry Potter," whispered Draco as he collapsed onto his lover's chest.
"I love you too, Draco Malfoy," replied Harry, winding his arms around Draco's shoulders.
They held each other for the rest of the too short night, touching, caressing, kissing and talking gently, before the pale fingers of dawn began to lighten the horizon. Regretfully, they dressed and stood, knowing that their time together had ended, at least, for now.
Harry looked deeply into Draco's eyes, feeling as if he were seeing the past, the present and the future in those stormy grey depths. Shyly, he touched his left hand to Draco's right, fingertips grazing, fingers inter-lacing, the pure simplicity of the gesture meant so much more.
Palm to palm, in a kiss.
Neither of them wanted to let go.
A meeting of souls brought the meeting of hearts and suddenly, everything started to make sense. And for once in too long a time, maybe...just maybe, the broken have their one chance in hell or heaven to learn to smile again.
"Harry?"
A voice from the past brought me back to the present.
"Yeah?"
"You missed the turning at the junction."
"Oh." So I did. I can't help but think perhaps, it was a junction of fate I had missed. But there's no turning back now and no reason left to drive on. "Sorry." I said. For letting you go.
"Never mind." His tone was harsh but his eyes told a different tale of restrained woe.
His eyes aren't just grey, mind you. They are colours of the storm. Smokey clouds with specks of gold reflecting hues of midnight blue. Most might say Draco has the coldest eyes, never betraying a tinge of emotion, but they'd never seen him the way I do. I've seen the very same eyes lit in euphoric glow, sparkle with hope and tainted in tears. Eyes that had said more to me than words ever could. No one had ever delved into the icy depths and witness the fiery devotions that lay buried just for me. No one knew where to look. But I did.
And what scared me most is that I still do.